


On the Back of an Angel

by persevera (vivie)



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Pre-Bella, transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:39:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivie/pseuds/persevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emmett's not quite innocent reflections on dying, followed by the Cullens' musings on whether or not he should</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Emmett

Huh, if I'd known dyin' would feel this good, maybe I wouldnta fought it so long.

'Course bein' mauled by a bear didn't feel real good but ever'thing after that...

I can't believe they sent a girl angel for me. She's the prettiest thing I ever seen, with that silver-blonde hair. Her face just seemed to be made of light, except for the eyes—about the color of a golden maple leaf—and just the teeniest bit'a pink on her lips.

I know it musta been some kinda dream, but I coulda swore I saw her rassle that bear and him run off, like he was hurt. All I could really think of though, watchin' her while I was lyin' there...helluva ass.

But I'm not s'posed to think like that anymore. I'm on my way to Heaven. Funny...I woulda thought we'd be outta the woods and mountains by now. It still feels and smells like home.

I don't care how long it takes though. This is a mighty fine ride on the back of the angel. People always talked about angel hair like it was real thin and fine but this angel's hair is thick and soft, like a pillow for me. And it smells real good.

Wonder if the skin smells as good. Maybe I can use my nose to kinda like push through the hair and get to...ah, yeah, that's nice. Skin smells maybe even better than the hair. It's cool against my face. Guess I shouldn't be puckerin' on it but...

Yeah, they really shoulda sent a boy angel for me


	2. Rosalie

Did he just kiss my neck? He's supposed to be on death's door. Carlisle won't change him if he can be saved.

He seems to have gone limp now, but at least he's still breathing. I still have quite a distance to go to reach the others though; I just don't want him to die before I get there.

Ugh! His blood smells good. Come on, Rosalie, you can do this. You've never had human blood before and you're not going to start with someone who looks like Little Henry—those beautiful dark curls on his head, that look of innocence and peace with his eyes closed. I was drawn to him.

But this isn't a sweet little boy. He looks like he's made of muscle. That monster Royce had pathetic, spindly arms but he and his friends were still able to...Oh, well. I got them all back.

I can feel this boy's (or man's) arms leaning on me. They're full and hard, like they would be good for holding something that he really...wanted...to hold.

No, I can't do this. I can't start thinking of him that way; he might not live.

I've been so lonely though. Why Carlisle ever thought that Edward and I would be good for each other, I can't imagine. Just because we're young, attractive and he changed both of us? Edward's just a little too...I don't know...prissy...for my tastes.

This human, on the other hand, was actually standing up to that huge bear, swinging at it with his rifle, until it got its arms around him and cuffed him.

I had to stop it.

Almost there, Curly, hold on.

This would be a lot easier in an open prairie, rather than the twisting, rocky trails of the mountains. I have no idea how far I've gone but the sun's moved quite a bit since we started.

What if he doesn't want me or what if he's a horrible man? I seem to attract those. And I've always hated this...existence...myself. How can I do it to somebody else?

I guess those are all questions they'll ask me. They probably won't buy that he looks like a little boy and feels like a man.

His breathing is getting fainter. Oh, thank God, there's the cabin.

"Carlisle! Esme!" I carefully lay him down on the grass. I'm covered in his blood.

"Please, Carlisle, he's not going to live. Make him one of us."


	3. Edward

Prissy, huh? Well, I've always found her to be a little...I don't know...narcissistic, overbearing and uninteresting for my tastes.

Though I do agree with her about the absurdity of Carlisle's romantic notion that the two us could have ever been a couple.

So she thinks she's found someone manly enough for her in the hills of Appalachia. How very appropriate that one-hundred-and-ten-pound Rosie is having to carry her burly mountain man on her back—a Neanderthal courtship in reverse.

I suppose I'm just jealous—not because of Rosalie, of course, but for what they might have together, what Carlisle and Esme have and what I never will.

Perhaps I should consider leaving again, rather than becoming the proverbial and literal fifth wheel. It's funny, I'd never thought of romance when I was a human. All I wanted was to be a soldier. But, as they say, when one door closes...

I can't actually imagine that happening for me though. I seem to have such a specific idea of what I would find appealing...brunette, brown eyes, challenging and mysterious...which, of course, is impossible for one "blessed" with the ability to read minds, even from as far away as Rosalie is right now.

I must say, I admire her willpower. I can sense how strongly the man's blood is affecting her but she's using that to spur her on and bring him here more quickly, rather than succumbing to her thirst.

Quite a distance she's already carried him and quite a distance still to go. I should go to meet her, I suppose, but I might not be able to withstand the temptation as well as she and I doubt that she'd relinquish him anyway.

Plus, she really should suffer for that prissy remark.

I'll just tell Carlisle to be expecting them then I'll go hunting myself in the opposite direction.

Hmph, Rosie on the cusp of love. I wonder how that would feel.


	4. Esme

I've never seen her like this. If we could cry, I believe she'd be weeping, the poor dear.

I guess it could just be exertion. Judging from what Edward said about sensing where she was when she found this boy, she must have carried him over 100 miles, with him bleeding the entire time. Her strength to resist rivals Carlisle's.

What would have possessed her to put herself through that? Ah, that explains it. The way she's looking down on him, that tender expression on her pretty face, she's in love.

I doubt that she realizes it, but I'm something of an expert in that area. I loved my first husband very much until he was killed, and the love I've had for Carlisle since he changed me far surpasses that.

Poor Rosalie has never felt that. And I, at least, get to be a mother to her and Edward. She'll never know what that's like either...never even hold a child again. No wonder she's always so unhappy.

I can sympathize. I know how devastating it was for me when my baby died so soon after the death of my husband. I didn't want to live. I was so lucky that Carlisle found me after I jumped off of the cliff. He offered me not only his love, but the chance to have a family again. I've found such happiness in this life, with my husband, son and daughter.

Goodness, with my arms around her, I can feel Rosalie's tension. Carlisle's examining the boy, as though looking for a reason not to change him.

He has to do something though. Edward's already gone tearing into the forest to find some creature to sink his teeth into. It's a terrific temptation for all of us to have this young man here, bleeding so freely, on the verge of death.

He's very handsome...virile looking...and very strong to still be living after what he's suffered. I think he would be good for Rosie.

She's beginning to sound more anxious, nearly desperate to convince Carlisle. It's a classic example of the doted-on little girl wheedling Daddy for something. This time though, she's not asking for a new dress; she's asking for a life...maybe for herself, as well as him.

She'll be crushed if he just dies. I can't let that happen to my daughter.

I kneel on the ground next to Carlisle, who is still hesitant. I touch the side of his face. He turns his head in my direction and grasps my hand. We share a look of understanding. "For her, darling," I whisper, "...yes."


	5. Carlisle

I owe it to her? Does she mean that?

His pulse is, while weak, still evident. Yes, he has internal injuries, but there's a possibility...Of what, Dr. Cullen, a miracle? You know he's dying. You really don't need Rosalie's pleading to know there are only two choices—let him die or change him.

I don't know why I'm so hesitant this time.

When Edward's mother practically ordered me on her deathbed to keep her son alive, I was almost enthusiastic, knowing after hundreds of years of loneliness that I could have someone in my life again.

As for Esme, my love, her heart called to me, while she was beautiful, battered and silent. I could sense that she needed healing, not just her body but also her spirit."

Biting them, tasting their blood after centuries of denial, but stopping before I took enough to kill them was excruciating, yet manageable because I had more to gain from their survival.

The three of us were content for years, until we introduced the endearing fly in our ointment, Rosalie, herself.

That night that I detected all that blood and discovered her abandoned on the sidewalk, so...violated. It felt like such a waste for all of her vibrancy, youth and beauty to die at the hands of a drunken, perverted mob—one that included her fiance.

Observing her three days of transformation, it was as if I could share in her hunger for revenge, it was so strong.

When that was done, though, and she only had decades and centuries of sameness ahead of her...she and Edward didn't connect as I had hoped...she realized that she'd never be able to have a family of her own...never enjoy her favorite foods again...she resented me. She resented us all, but especially me.

Edward turned on me once. Rosalie has been miserable in this life. And now she's telling me I owe her for forcing it on her and she wants me to do the same thing to this young man.

Why would I risk another young person's hostility or the likelihood of unleashing on the world a young, powerful vampire, who can't conform to our way of life? I saw enough of the carnivore when I was with the Volturi.

I feel Esme's closeness. For Rosalie, she says. The women are united now. I nod, giving into the inevitable before they can bring all of their persuasiveness to bear.

I pick up the curly-haired man and carry him inside. We don't have beds here but Rosalie takes the cushions from the couch and chairs to make a large, comfortable spot in one corner of the great room.

I shoo the women away, check the boy's vital signs and expose his stubbly throat.

I think of my father, the somber minister and vampire hunter of Olde England. I imagine his horror if he could see what I'm about to do.

Kneeling beside the young man, I shut out everything but the vein in his neck that my fangs now pierce.

I give birth to another family member.


	6. Ephraim

a/n This is the most literary license I've taken in this story but after deciding to feature everyone who was involved in Emmett's transition, I wanted to include everyone who was alive at the time. This suggests a reason why the Quileute chief might have been so receptive to a pact with the Cullens

What's she doing now, pacing outside the cabin?

I shouldn't have followed her; my duty was to kill her when I saw her with the human but I couldn't.

It's not imprinting because I'm not in my human form and she hasn't looked at me, hidden in the trees, but I can't take my eyes off of her.

That beautiful, tender look I saw on her face when she knelt beside him. She didn't look crazed by the blood; she didn't even act like she wanted to drink it. She just put the man on her back and started running.

She talked to herself a little while she ran. When she mentioned someone named King and his friends, I could hear the hate in her voice, but when she spoke of her family and talked to the man on her back, her tone was softer, loving, almost motherly.

My hair stood on end as we neared the cabin and I smelled the other cold ones but somehow, I trusted her. She stood with that pretty woman and shouted at the other man, who then carried the dying man into the cabin, and still I trusted her.

Now he's screaming in pain. The older one with yellow hair is talking to her and the other woman. They're leaving; she's staying.

She keeps looking toward the inside of the cabin but won't go in, just rubs her hands nervously.

I shouldn't let this go on. What kind of future chief of the Quileute tribe am I not to take action? But that's why I'm here in the first place, running from that responsibility after going through my own change.

Maybe that's why I'm letting this happen. I can still kill them if I have to, the man was dying anyway, and I want to know if their change is like mine. Listening to his screams, it sounds as painful, but maybe he's a weak man.

No, she wouldn't want a weak man and she does want him. I can tell that much. Would she have wanted me if she'd seen me in my human form?

So beautiful. She's golden—her hair and eyes, even the little bit of color under her white skin has a gold cast. It surrounds her—that and excitement and desire. I can smell it on her. I guess if she weren't focused on him, she could sense mine too.

He's getting a little quieter now. Maybe he's adjusting to the pain. My father and the elders said their change takes three days. She'll be crazy by then.

I wish I could comfort her; I want to go to her but I can't. I can't leave her alone with him either. I'll stay with her until they return.

I wonder why I've never felt this way about any of the women of the tribe. Is that still possible for me after being with her?

His shouts are starting again; the others are back. I can tell they've been hunting. They smell like...deer. They don't hunt humans. They're different and she's...

It's time to leave. I have to go back home and learn to be chief and protector of my people, their wolf when needed.

I take one final look back at the golden woman. I'll never forget her.


	7. Alice

Ah, so there will be one more of us. He seems to be a nice young man, a good match for my sister and a good brother for me, when we all finally meet.

It's strange that I had such a clear idea about the addition when Edward was there, but after he left, I seemed to lose the vision for a while. And this is the first time I've seen Rosalie with him. I wonder why.

Awww, I'm going to love Esme and Carlisle so much. They've created such a wonderful family. I don't remember ever having parents of my own. I just seemed to have entered the world as a vampire—a quite clever and lovable vampire, but a blood-eater, nonetheless.

It's a wonder that I didn't become a horrible monster, killing people left and right, since what causes hesitancy in some vampires is their human memories and I don't have any. That probably would have been my fate if I didn't always have my vision of life with the Cullens, the coven that lives on animal blood and inspires me to do the same. While they control themselves because of their pasts, I do because of my future with them. And...it has its side benefits now. The gold-tinted eyes are much better with my dark hair and gamine features than the garish red irises from my carnivore years.

That makes me think about my poor Jasper, torturing himself with his vampire war memories, nearly starving before he finally feeds in desperation. He kills his victim, rather than create another of us, then adds to his guilt of taking one more human life. I can't wait to introduce him to another way of surviving, if not quite thriving, but that's the sacrifice we make to keep from being murderers. It will give him peace of mind.

I get so jealous whenever he meets another woman in his wanderings. He's so attractive anyway, with his Texas drawl and gentlemanly manners, then there's that special quality he has in being able to influence emotions and and make others do what he wants. But he's never been strongly drawn to any of them. That's because no one else is his true mate; I am.

We'll be so happy together when we finally meet. I don't care how many detours he takes along the way. He'll be with me some day, then we can go together to join the Cullens and our lives will be complete.

Come east, my love. Come east and find me.

* * *

  _ **a/n Alice's vision was obstructed when Edward left and Rosalie drew closer to the cabin because she was followed by Ephraim. Alice wasn't able to see anymore until Ephraim left. As we learn in the second book, the wolves of La Push block her ability to see the future**_


	8. James

Sometimes I like turning a feeding into a seduction. This was such a pretty girl, with her chestnut hair, hazel eyes and peachy blush. Her blood had a sweet, salty smell, which makes sense, with the asylum where she was committed so close to the ocean. The taste didn't disappoint—like succulent seafood.

I loved as her moans of pleasure turned to screams of terror. The flavor from the vein in her neck with her last gasp of life...that's always my favorite. It pumps into my mouth like liquid ambrosia, food for a god.

And that's what I am—smarter, faster, stronger than my subjects, who exist to satisfy all my hungers.

I just choose what I want from among them. Mmm, and she was what I wanted this time. A young, sensual woman who wanted me, drawn to my fiery eyes, my hard and icy body and the promise of something better than straight jackets and shock treatments.

I delivered. She died feeling more than they'd allowed her to in years.

I think that she'll be the last one that I take from one of these places. There's no challenge in the little girls and boys that families dump here because they can't deal with their differences—the strong sexuality of this one, sometimes deep depression, and then there was that tiny, beautiful girl who had visions.

Ugh, I wanted her so bad. No one else before or since has smelled as enticing as she did. She would've been mine, but that old vampire who had some fatherly attachment bit her to keep me from having her. She had no appeal for me after that. I made him pay.

I'm a tracker. My instincts and senses turn people into prey. I'll find somebody, someday, who'll taste better than she would have. Maybe I'll find a woman, wild and ruthless, that I'd like to keep as a mate. I'm a god; I decide who lives and dies. I'll make someone a goddess.

Who wouldn't want this life?

* * *

 

**_a/n Of course, the tiny, beautiful girl who had visions is Alice. That's why James, who had no connection to the transformation or the pact with the wolves, is included. He was alive at the time, indulging himself somewhere_ **


	9. Jasper

Pathetic excuse for a life. I've tried to end it before, but it's almost impossible for a vampire to kill himself. It's not like I can throw myself off a bridge or slice my wrists.

The only way for me to die would be to fight and that would just put another murder on my hands...so much blood on these hands.

I'd still just let myself starve, if I didn't have the dream of something better. I'm not sure what it is, but I can imagine bright, hopeful days, rather than ones filled with dark passions and justifications, like my years with Maria.

I never had her need for power or insatiable appetite, but I was her general—training, leading, then doing away with newborns when she said they'd outgrown their usefulness.

It took me years to realize that everything I did was for her and that her physical rewards, which is all she offered, meant less over time.

Her kiss and touch couldn't make up for the look of an aging newborn, who had respected me, in some cases loved me, and now lived in fear of my suggesting a walk alone with him or her. I couldn't just see the fear; I could feel it.

I was totally lost until my friend Peter came back for me. He suggested a different way to live...without fighting, without looking at everyone as a potential victim or opponent.

While he and Charlotte (the love that he'd found in Maria's army) were happy with the way they lived, it still wasn't satisfactory for me. Away from constant war, I was forced to concentrate more on the feelings of my human victims. I lured them then fed off of them. I could sense the calm and well-being that I gave them turn into betrayal, outrage and, finally, horror.

I avoid it as much as I can, which makes me a nomad—never developing strong attachments, denying myself the comfort of companionship.

Still, in the last few years, I've had my dream of something better—maybe not just peace, but actual happiness. All I have to do is find it.

A life worth living, to compensate for the life I've had, can be mine. I just keep heading east.


	10. Emmett & Rosalie

I've hollered and cussed and carried on for days about how much it hurt.

I thought my blood was goin' to burn through my skin. Then that feelin' went away and things in my body just...stopped. I couldn't hear my heartbeat; I stopped breathin' but didn't feel like I died.

I think all that's over now. I just opened my eyes again, from what feels like the last sleep I'll ever need.

I can see and smell and hear everything. I hear a fly on the other side of the room rubbin' its two front legs together...hell, I can see the fly. There are whispers outside. I can hear what they're sayin' but it don't make a lotta sense.

They're standin' in front of me now—a woman and a man, a guy I could take in a fight, no problem, and...the angel. They all tell me who they are but I can't take my eyes off her. "I'm Emmett," I say, shakin' hands.

"Well, Rosalie will explain everything to you," the man says, then they leave and it's just me and her.

She sits on her feet next to the cushions I'm laid out on. "Are you feeling alright?" she asks, real careful, puttin' one of her hands on my face.

"Feel good now," I answer, touchin' her face too. "You're not an angel, are you?"

She smiles and I stop thinkin'. "No," she says, "I'm not."

"Is this Hell?"

She smiles again. "No. You're still on Earth and alive. Are you ready to get up yet? Here, let me help you."

She's touchin' more of me—my arms and back—and I have to touch her too.

"It feels a little strange at first," she says. The way she talks is so pretty. "Try wiggling your toes a little. Can you feel it throughout your body now?"

Power. I can feel power movin' in my body, makin' me bold. The first thing I do with it is pull her tight in my arms. I can see it in her face. She wants the kiss as bad as I do. She tastes so sweet and cool, like the spearmint leaves you can sometimes find on the trail.

If, for the rest of my life, she's the only person I hold and her lips are the only ones I kiss, I can be happy with that.

Still I want somethin' else. It's crazy; I've never felt anything like it. "Rosalie," I say, "I need..."

She smiles again. That smile can make me do a lot of things. "I know," she says, leadin' me by the hand through the door of the cabin.

We stand on the porch. I take a big sniff. I can smell fish swimmin' in the stream, a little squirrel and all the damp nuts that he's puttin' up in the hollow of a tree.

"I'll explain everything," she says, touchin' my arm. I look down at her standin' by my side. It almost feels like we're standin' in front of a church.

Smilin' and stirrin' me up again, she says, "but right now, let's go find your bear."

We run into the heart of the forest. He begins to realize that he no longer has the limitations that he did. He revels in it—jumping over a stream and up into a tree, then scaling rock formations and leaping from the other side. Carlisle told me that he'd be stronger and faster than I because of the human blood still in his tissues, so I don't try to keep up. I just enjoy watching his exuberance, his already beautiful body testing its abilities.

He suddenly stops. I catch up with him. I can smell the bear before I see it. They're sizing each other up as equals. The bear rises on its hind legs and roars, a sound that would make men cower. He lunges at him and brings him down. His teeth bite into the neck. The bear's growl turns into a groan of defeat. Emmett makes sucking sounds as he takes the blood of his first animal.

"Do you want some?" he asks.

I kneel and lap a little with my tongue, but I'm not really hungry, since I'd been hunting earlier that day when I first found him. He has blood all around his mouth. That's what I want. I lick it clean, lying on top of him. We roll away from the drained carcass. He's leaning over me. Maybe neither he nor I can read minds, but we know what we both want.

Somewhere though someone is reading our minds. I can just imagine his look of superiority and disapproval. _Mind your own damn business, Edward,_ I tell him in my mind.

This is my choice. I haven't had many of them in life. My fiance was who my parents wanted. I certainly didn't choose what he and his friends did to me. Carlisle forced this life on me. With this man, I change that. I take what I want, give what I want.

Our shouts together are primal. Then I lay with my head on his chest, my blonde hair covering much of his dazzling skin.

"Don't leave, Emmett," I say, clinging to him. "Please stay with me."

He answers softly, "Rosalie, I never thought I could leave these mountains, or would even want to. But now that I feel like I can go anywhere, I don't want to stay in one place."

I'm heart-broken. He raises my chin so I'm looking at him as he continues, "But wherever I go, I'm taking you with me."

His kiss is slow and sweet, almost innocent, though his hands aren't. I mold myself to him. Maybe I'm shameless, but all I want is more of him.

His eyes are flame. Eventually, they'll mellow to a golden color, like all of ours, but they'll still have fire.

He is, after all, a wild man. My wild man...my choice...my mate.


End file.
